To listen to your messages again, press star
by RenaUke
Summary: An unspecified international military unit operating in an unspecified Arab country in opposition to an unspecified insurgent force. Trouble is on the horizon. T for some violence and severe tension.
1. The Call

disclaimer: i don't know all that much about the army (and don't wish to have a real need for truly in-depth knowledge). I hope this isn't too awfully wrong.

inspired by a history channel piece on snipers for the coast guard

* * *

"Hej, Tino. 'r crew's bin co. . . iq's friend tur'nd out t' be . . . sn't a firefi . . . host'ges, but I don' trust th . . .ember, jag älskar dig, Ti . . ."

Tino's blood froze in his veins, his hand reaching unconsciously into his empty holster.

"End of new messages. To return a call, press eight-eight. To erase this message, press seven. To listen to your messages again, press star."

As his hand registered the empty space, Tino's feet traveled to the other side of the room, and his legs bent themselves next to his bag. The sniper scope was resting halfway out of the top pocket. His fingers wrapped tightly around the lens casing. The metal was a part of his skin.

"To return a call, press eight-eight. To erase this message, press seven. To listen to your messages again, press star."

Tino's body eased itself back into the wall, the scope-holding fist pressed to his chest. Tino pressed star.

"One old message. Thursday, eleven-twenty-seven AM.

_Twenty minutes ago._

"Hej, Tino. 'r crew's bin co. . .

_Co. . . Code, caught, called, killed, stop it. Co. . . compromised._

"iq's friend tur'nd out t' be . . .

_Iq? Sadiq. Sadiq's friend . . . A double agent or spy or member of . . . _

"sn't a firefi . . .

_Wasn't a firefight._

"host'ges, but I don' trust th . . .

_Who? Don't trust who? Who are the hostages?_

"ember, jag älskar dig, Ti . . ."

_What's happening? What's happening? What's happening?_

"End of old messages. To return a call, press eight-eight. To erase this message, press seven. To listen to your messages again, press star."

Tino pressed star again.

And again.

And again.

He had listened to the message nine times by the time Lukas walked into the room.

"Tino! Tino, what's going on?" Lukas's rushed to his friend's side. At this point the hand holding the scope was crammed under Tino's chin, and his eyes stared unblinkingly into space. The knuckles on the hand holding the cell phone were almost white as it slowly descended from his ear, stopping midway to his lap and hovering there.

"I got a message from Berwald," said Tino's voice, almost as monotone as Lukas's ordinary speech pattern. "I think something went wrong."

"What did he say?" asked Lukas, crouching next to Tino.

Without his having looked at it, Tino's thumb turned on speaker phone.

"messages again, press star." The thumb pressed star. A crackling static filled the room.

"Hej, Tino. 'r crew's bin co. . . iq's friend tur'nd out t' be . . . sn't a firefi . . . host'ges, but I don' trust th . . .ember, jag älskar dig, Ti . . ." The last words descended into oppressive static until the sound was cut off by the phone's message limit.

"End of old messages. To return a call, press eight-eight. To erase this message, press seven. To listen to your messages again, press star." Tino's hand slowly closed the phone.

"I think something went wrong," his strange voice said again. Lukas grabbed the phone and took Tino's hand.

"We have to go talk to the sergeant about this right now," he said, his own voice quavering as he pulled Tino to his feet. But they had barely made it to the doorway when Tino stopped short.

"What is he's dead?" said Tino softly. "What if he's dead? What if he's dead? What if he's dead?" Each query was louder than the last, his voice's pitch slowly rising.

"What if he's dead? Perkele, what if Berwald is dead?" Without warning Tino buckled into a crouch. His hand still locked in Lukas's pulling the other man down as well. Lukas wrapped his free arm around Tino's shoulders, and the other's face caught in the corner of his jacket, sending warm rivulets over his collarbone.

"Ei, ei, ei," Tino was chanting, rocking back and forth in Lukas's grip, crushing the other's fingers in an iron fist. Lukas bit his tongue and stayed still for his friend.

After a minute, Tino looked up. His eyelashes were stuck together, and there were long clean swathes through the Arabian dust on his cheeks.

"We have to tell the sergeant right now," he said, his voice a little higher than usual but otherwise back to its normal expressive tone.

"I agree," said Lukas, slowly standing up. Tino stood as well, then looked curiously at the scope in his hand. He looked at his bag, then back to the scope, and then put it in his chest pocket.

"Let's go," he said, taking the phone out of Lukas's hand and hurrying away down the hall. Lukas followed him.


	2. The Briefing

The command central in one of the compound's outbuildings was already buzzing when the two specialists arrived. Tino didn't even seem to notice, marching right up to the table in the center of the room.

"Sir, I think something's gone wrong with Sergeant Oxenstierna's convoy," he said without ceremony.

"You're damn right it has," replied the man on the other side of the table, turning to him. Tino and Lukas came to immediate attention at the glower on Sergeant Kirkland's face.

"Some goddamn lucky insurgent bastard shot down the air support," continued the sergeant, his eyes like coals, "and the ground crew stopped returning contact shortly after they got on the water."

"If this is a training exercise, it's a fucking shit one," growled Corporal Vargas, hunched over the radio equipment.

"Language!" snapped Sergeant Kirkland without irony.

"I think they've been captured, sir. I got this message." Tino thrust his phone at the sergeant, not even pausing to think how it might be a good thing his superior officer didn't speak Swedish. Sergeant Kirkland listened to the message, then handed the phone back to Tino.

"Corporal Braginski, get a reconnaissance team out there immediately." The massive corporal went out of the building. "We'll have to set up an extraction team in case this is as serious as it sounds."

"I have to go," said Tino, one hand flying up while the other unconsciously patted the scope in his pocket.

"What?" said the sergeant, startled.

"I have to go," said Tino, his voice starting to drop into the strange monotone. Lukas put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Tino put his hand down.

"I would like to be part of the extraction team, sir," said Tino, in his regular voice. The sergeant considered, his glower softening somewhat.

"You're a sniper, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, Specialist, you can go."

"I would like to go too, sir," said Lukas quietly, surprising everyone.

"Yeah? Remind me what you do, Specialist." The sergeant looked less than thrilled at the progression of the conversation.

"I speak Arabic."

"Uh huh."

"And I diffuse bombs."

"Okay, you can go."

The reconaissance radioed back with the news which at least Tino had been expecting: some kind of insurgent group had gained control of the convoy's various boats and was holding the soldiers in one of them, still out on the water. According to the somewhat garbled responses to their attempts at radio contact, everyone was still alive.

"We have to get them out of there, sir," Tino said urgently to Corporal Bielschmidt. So far no one had made a move to leave base camp yet.

"We do indeed," replied the red-eyed corporal, the leader of the extraction team. "But we have to be sure we're going to be safe before we just go charging in there."

"People's lives are at stake here," Tino muttered to Lukas. His friend put his hands on Tino's shoulders.

"You need to calm down, Tino."

"I can't, Lukas, you should know I can't!"

"Yes, you can Tino." Lukas put some pressure on Tino's shoulders. "You can't be any help to Berwald in a state. You have to pull yourself together. Your eye's not going to be very steady if you keep working yourself up."

"What's this I hear about Sergeant Ox?" asked the corporal, sidling into the conversation knowingly. Tino looked at his feet.

"You'll have to excuse him, sir," said Lukas, trying not to shake Tino.

"Nothing to excuse," replied Corporal Bielschmidt, with an elbow in Tino's ribs. "The sergeant's a pretty attractive man, if you like the strong, silent type." Tino looked sideways at his superior officer.

"I agree, sir," he said, on the edge of cheeky. The corporal elbowed him in the ribs again, and then walked away. Lukas breathed a sigh of relief.

"Man, it is so hard to know who's going to be okay with these things," he said, almost to himself. Tino smiled a little, looking less freaked out, though still tense.

"Alright, guys, move out!" shouted Corporal Bielschmidt. The extraction team hurried out of the building.


	3. The Mission

The team took off from base in two helicopters, a full-size transport chopper and a smaller, more maneuverable craft. Tino rode in the smaller copter, along with his guns, and a nervous private named Galante.

"Okay, guys, here's the plan," came the corporal's voice in their headsets. "We're going to try to establish radio contact with the hijackers."

The word made Tino cringe.

"Specialist Bondevik and I will try to reason with them, at least find out what their motives are, or demands, or was wieß ich. Corporal and Private Vargas will cover them with guns from here, in case they try any funny business. Specialist Va-, Va-, oh, you know who you are, you try to get a bead on their leader, or anybody with guns."

"Wha-, what am I doing, sir?" sputtered the private beside Tino.

"Help the sniper, kid." Tino looked at the private. Private Galante attempted to smile at him, but only looked sick.

"It'll be okay, man!" Tino shouted to the boy over the roar of the chopper. The private still looked sick.

Water appeared on the horizon, and flew along to meet them. Late afternoon sun shone off it and tinted it gold. Not long after they passed the shore line, the boats also came into view, a cluster of beige specks. The plane carrying the reconnaissance party had made a successful water landing a good distance from the boats, and the calm of the water suggested that nobody was firing, at least not at the moment. Tino gripped one of the more powerful rifles tightly. The smaller helicopter circled around the flotilla, bringing the big chopper into view as well.

"Prepare arms, soldiers," said the corporal's voice. Tino carefully shouldered his gun and rested the barrel against the hanging strap which crossed the helicopter's open side. He took the scope out of his pocket and clicked it into place on the gun's stock. Resting his cheek securely on the gun, Tino steadied his breathing and looked through the sights.

"Missä hiidessä?" he muttered unintentionally into the headset.

"What?" said the corporal.

"Not helpful," said Lukas.

"A whole bunch of our guys are just standing on the deck of the big boat," Tino clarified. "No hostile parties visible." The helicopter continued its loop.

"I take that back, sir. There's a man with a gun pulling people out of the hold on your side of the cabin."

"Can you get a bead on him?"

"Well, yeah."

"Okay, you just keep him in your sights and we'll try to make contact over here." Tino held the gun as steady as he could in a moving vehicle. The pilot eased around the boat until the unidentified man was more clearly visible, then hovered as best he could. Wind from the two helicopters rocked the boats a little.

At this point soldiers stopped coming out of the boat's hold. The man with the gun stood watch at the ready, but kept his gun pointed up.

"Alright, Mr. Sniper, we're going into negotiations over here, so you're on your own discretion," said the corporal's voice. Tino settled himself in. He took his finger off the trigger for a moment to scan the crowd through his scope. He thought he saw Berwald in the front, but it was hard to tell from above. He put his bead back on the man with the gun.

Wind from the helicopters and the sea ran over Tino's face under his helmet, but for him it was not there. The water did not sparkle red gold. Corporal Bielschmidt and Lukas were not talking somewhere on the other end of the headset. There was no halting Arabic, nor Lukas swearing softly in Norwegian. There was only the man in the rifle crosshairs. He looked as if he were half paying attention to something happening inside the cabin.

The Arabic in the headset stopped. Tino didn't notice that. Instead he noticed another man emerge from the cabin, carrying a much bigger gun than his friend. The two men conferred, then turned towards the massed soldiers, guns rising.

Bang. The man with the big gun fell.

Bang. The man with the small gun fell.

There was the sound of machine gun fire as the Vargas brothers opened on more of the hijackers coming out of the surrounding boats. The hostage soldiers dove beneath the gunwales of the the boat on which they stood.

Tino threw his sniper rifle at Private Galante, snatching up another gun with a much larger scope. The hostile party was not returning fire to the Helicopters, but instead retreated into the boats. Evidently no one else had been left on the boat with the captured soldiers, because it was the only boat which did not move when the rest of the flotilla peeled away and scattered in all directions.

"Stop them if you can, sniper group," said the corporal. "We're going in for the extraction." The helicopter Tino was in turned and set off after one of the fleeing boats.

"Capture if possible!" added the corporal.

"How can we-" began Private Galante.

"Shh!" said Tino. He trained in on the boat in front of him and aimed for the place between the propellors, where the engine would be.

Bang. Bang. Bang. The boat slowed to a crawl, and a man came out of its cabin with gun in hand. The helicopter was already turned around and racing towards another boat.


	4. The Return

By the time the helicopter returned to base, Tino had disabled six of ten fleeing boats and used up all the ammunition in his current gun. As they set down, he pulled his scope off the first rifle and put it in his pocket. Private Galante looked slightly less sick than he had.

As soon as the helicopter was resting solidly on the tarmac Tino leapt out the open side, with the private right behind him. He hurried to the command central to finish what was left of this operation. In the building's main room he fell in next to Lukas and the rest of the extraction team, standing under the eye of Sergeant Kirkland. Next to the sergeant was another officer only vaguely familiar to Tino. He had seen Staff Sergeant Bielschmidt when he was first deployed, but the man rarely visited outlying camps. Suddenly everything seemed very important.

On the other side of the room, the soldiers of the captured convoy had already formed up ranks. Tino knew Berwald was standing on the leftmost end of the first row, but he resisted the urge to peek.

The staff sergeant stepped forward, followed closely by Sergeant Kirkland.

"Which of these men did you say brought in the vital piece of intelligence?" asked the senior office.

"Specialist Veynamownen, sir," replied the sergeant. Tino stepped forward, ignoring the complete butchery of his name.

"Specialist," said the staff sergeant, not even trying the name, "I don't mean to question your integrity, but tell me again how you acquired your information?"

"Sergeant Oxenstierna left a message on my personal phone, sir," said Tino, focusing on the wall behind the officer's head and trying not to give anything away. The staff sergeant turned away and walked to the other side of the room. Tino didn't dare to move his head.

"Sergeant, again, I don't mean to question your integrity, but why did you not choose to send such a vital distress call to a superior officer?"

"I di'n't have th'r person'l numb'rs, sir." Tino hoped the staff sergeant could understand him! "I knew Spec'list Väinämöinen would pass th' message along." Lukas nudged Tino with his foot at that. The staff sergeant returned to his spot next to Sergeant Kirkland, with an unreadable look on his face. The two officers spoke in hushed tones for a long minute. Then the sergeant faced the room.

"At ease, soldiers," he said. "You are free to go." The soldiers did not exactly break ranks, but instead walked out of the building almost in their rows.

Outside Tino waited for Berwald around the corner of the barracks. At last his sergeant came towards him, not quite running, and crushed him into a bear hug. Tino wrapped his arms as far around Berwald as they would go and buried his face in the other man's shoulder. When they finally stepped apart, Tino pressed a quick kiss to Berwald's lips.

"Is what you said to the staff sergeant really the reason you called me?" he asked. It was a blunt question, but he had to know. Berwald looked embarrassed.

"Mm, not really."

"Oh?" Tino prodded.

"Nn, jus' wanted y' t' know, 'f . . . 'f I . . . 'f I died, jus' wanted y' t' know jag älsker dig." Berwald was turning a fun shade of pink. Tino chuckled and put his hand against Berwald's flaming cheek.

"Duh."

"Hn?"

"Duh. Me too."


End file.
